Saturday, December 10, 2016

I wished to share with you some of my thoughts and feelings,
some of the obstacle, harassment and some or many random acts of kindness,
support, and beauty.

In June 2016 the sale of my vacant lot in Hintonburg closed
and I was able to purchase The Imbleau & Son Foundry in Renfrew.

I was so happy that I sold my vacant lot. I had a cheque for
over $250,000 dollars in my hands, but I was single, alone, and had no one to
hold in my arms and share the joy with.
That realization was really difficult to deal with.

Isabelle, my 12 year old daughter, was with me the next week.
One week on, one week off (the landscape of divorce). All excited Isabelle and I drove up to
Renfrew and embraced the purchase of the property and after had a pizza to
celebrate at a local restaurant.

Dream Dream Dream of converting the space into the Art
Factory. To have the largest artist
studio in Canada, an Art Gallery, and Art Supply store.

The factory was up for sale for several years. The previous
operation at the factory was the manufacturing of street steel manhole covers.
Contamination and pigeon shit. A 8700
square foot Pigeon Hotel. When a
property has contamination NO bank will give you a mortgage. So I paid cash for
the property. Nor can you get a loan, no
secured line of credit. Only cash. All
in - not a small decision.

I am not some poor starving artist. And I wish to talk about this for a moment…. An
aside

So many people assume. Artist = Starving. This is not my
situation. I find it most taxing and the judgement so exhausting. I was very poor in my 20’s. I was hard core broke. I lost 17 pounds due
to not eating correctly. Erika (my ex-wife) and I slept in cold damp bed sheet
while living in East London. We could not afford to turn the electricity on to
be warm and dry. But I worked my ass off. The experience of being that poor was
most humbling and challenging. You are
judged by everyone. You are living your life. It is fucking hard to surrender
your soul to your passion. Lack of support, lack of encouragement, and countless
letters of rejection from galleries… it pushes you to dark spaces. But I have
this fire inside my soul that screams. So I push forward. I know that there is
something inside of me that must be respected as true and pure. I was very blessed to have so many people in
London buy my paintings. Now I am 44
years old. I have 7 rental income unites (two 3 bedroom house, a triplex and a
duplex downtown Ottawa, and a 1400 square foot storage unit), and two other
units that need renovations to increase my 7 rental incomes to 9. Plus I have the 8700 square foot Factory to
convert into a business and studio. Even
if I do not sell my paintings I am free to live without stress. For the past 14
years I have not had a job, a boss, no office.
I sell paintings. I say this to correct Artist = Starving = for ME it =
LIVE LOVE Dreams. Some dreams are not blanketed in darkness, but some dreams
are filled with sunshine. Dreams require
work. I work with intense passion.

The first weeks of work were filled with many dump runs. A
staff at the Renfrew dump, who had formerly worked at the factory for 39 years,
helped unload the trailer. As we unload the items at the dump, he told us
stories about the operations at the factory. He was so generous, and he had
such a warm, kind smile painted across his face as he helped.

The Town of Renfrew came to turn the water main on. A few weeks later, I hired Marshalls to
remove several large machines out of the space. They were the same company that
manufactured and installed the equipment that I was paying to remove. I wished to share my joy and communicate the
progress of activities with others on Facebook and social media. So I took a
few photos of Marshalls working and removing and the progress inside the
factory. Two hours before Marshalls was finished. The Ministry of Labor (MOL)
showed up. They received an anonymous complaint. The MOL issued a stop work order. I was order to do a Designated Substance
Report (DSR).

This was a pretty major thing. The factory was not properly
cleaned in over 100 plus years. This meant I could not hire a contractor until
the DSR report was completed. I could
not hire a plumber, a gas fitter, no electrician... no skilled trades persons,
no paid workers. The implications of
this are massive. No paid workers.

Fortunately the Town of Renfrew had turned on the water a few
weeks before the MOL had showed up. So I
had running water. But I could not have a gas water tank install. So no hot
water. So no warm water to shower or
clean.

I could not hire staff, No paid workers until the DSR was
carried out. As the property owner I was still permitted to clean, work, and repair
the Factory. So I spent over 800 hours
cleaning the factory over the summer. I
wished to clean the inside of the factory before commencing a DSR. I knew that with all the pigeon shit and the
factory basically being pigeon hotel. I would be screwed. So I worked alone in
this massive space. At the end of the
day I would walk down to the river and clean myself. I was black as black. The amount of dirt that
covered my body and cloths was insane. I
am not blind. I know the looks I had from individuals as I washed in the
river... the judgments of being some poor, homeless, freak. But I am a dreamer. And some dreams require
massive work. So I shielded myself with
my Dreamer Mind and Dreamer Soul. So I
washed in the river. Pretty
intense. But hey... I am an intense
dreamer.

Rapidly I figured out who were my discretionary friends and
who were my real friends. This was not
an easy truth for face. I was very overwhelmed with the massive task that faced
me. Feeling very alone. Not being able
to hire help. The DSR really was a massive pain. I broke down a few times
inside the factory and just cried.
Things seemed really hopeless.

But I knew that I had this Unknown Anonymous Stalker on
Social Media (Mr. ASS) who has followed me for many years (9 plus years)
calling Bylaw, Police, Electrical Safety Authority, Police, LCBO head office in
Toronto, Liquor Inspector, Building Inspector, Building Services, more Bylaw
(over 200 times). So now I had Mr. ASS
calling MOL.

This pissed me off. But if life gives you lemons, you make lemonade
(right Mr. ASS).

I have a pretty good idea who Mr. ASS is. So I went up to the Police station in
Renfrew. I spoke to the department. I explained my situation. The police were unable to help me. So I have
Mr. ASS calling each and every governing
agency and department. And then the
Bylaw, the Police, Fire Department, Ministry of Labor, and Ministry of
Environment and Climate Change are called out to respond to Mr. ASS and his
anonymous complaints. And according to the Police… they cannot help me. To
quote David Peace (Renfrew local police officer), “The person who is harassing
you is very clever. He is using us to harass you.”

There were many days I just wished to quit and give up. But I
had Mr. ASS as my personal life coach. Many mornings I wished to just sleep in
and not work. But in my mind I had Mr. ASS as my personal alarm clock screaming
at me…. So I viewed Mr. ASS as my personal life coach motivator. I wished to kick ass. So I put in 14 – 19 hour days every day. At the end of the summer I had put on 20
pounds of muscle mass. Even my shit had muscles lol.

I had kindness start to fall into place. Kent (friend, art lover, and owner of
a landscaping company) helped me clean the factory floor with his BOB Cat and he
rented a street brush cleaner. He let me use his BOB Cat and his other backhoe
machine.

Kent helped me build my daughter (Isabelle) a beach
volleyball court on my land at the Art Factory.
He arranged for the dirt to be moved to two locations. When the beach volleyball court was done. As
a proud father I posted Isabelle standing on her official beach volleyball
court.

A few days later, The Ministry of Environment and Climate
Control (MOECC) contacted me. I am not
sure who hates me this much but MR. ASS called the MOECC. Who does this… really?
What kind of sick individual calls the MOECC after a proud father builds his
daughter a beach volleyball court.

Oh well. What can you
do. Not much. So I worked even harder. I pushed myself to
clean and pressure wash the inside of the factory. A massive undertaking to do alone.

I had to push forward as hard as possible. I wished to have the
place washed and cleaned before the cold winter was upon me. You cannot paint walls below 10 degrees. The
water from the pressure washer will puddle on the floor.

September, once Isabelle started school. I would drop
Isabelle off at school. Drive from Ottawa up to Renfrew. Work 3 hours and 35
mins. Then drive back to Ottawa to
collect Isabelle from school. I was
really pushing myself to get the space cleaned before winter. I put over six
thousand kilometers of driving on my van in the month of September alone. The
personal goals I wished to achieve… I did. I surpassed them.

The more I worked… the more kindness started presenting
itself. The people of Renfrew flooded me
with kindness. Warm loving food was
delivered to me… many times. I must look
like a sucker for a loving home cooked meal.
Frosters (ice cream) from Wendy’s hand delivered with a beautiful smile,
fresh cut water melon, a drafting table was gifted to me from a facebook friend
(this really blew me away), a truck full
of free fire wood to keep me warm, three people offering to let me stay in their
homes for free (even gave me keys), Tiffany (total sweet heart) the newspaper writer for the Renfrew Mercury Newspaper wrote two incredible articles, the gallery owner in Artist Cove Art
Gallery in Burns Town approached me to show my work (and offered to let me live
in her rental apartment), the Town Hall approached me to give me a Solo Show,
when my van was getting repaired I was offered a ride back from Walmart, the
kindness was incredible… so much kindness and encouraging words of support were
offered and so deeply appreciated… There are so many more acts of kindness,
support, encouragement… they are not all listed. But they all filled my heart
in ways I cannot begin to express.

What touched my heart the most was my beautiful daughter
Isabelle. She had seen me struggle to
sever the vacant lot in Hintonburg, and had watched me and helped me start the
process of cleaning the Art Factory. I
told her I would build her a beach volleyball court. But she was responsible for buying the net
and line borders. So she researched
where and what she wished to buy. When
it came time for her to pay me the funds for the online purchase I told her,
“Isabelle, I had no intention of taking your money for the net, the line
borders… I only wished you to think that you were spending your own money, so I
knew that you would mentally process the payment. The entire beach volleyball court is a gift
to say how much I love you, and how proud of you.”

Then Isabelle said, “Daddy, thank you so much. I have wanted
to do this for some time. But I needed to
budget my money to make sure I could afford to pay for the volleyball
net and lines. I have wished to treat
you. I have wanted to take you out for dinner to your favorite restaurant and
celebrate. I know how hard you work. And
I know you are alone and someone has to congratulate you and celebrate you
getting the Art Factory… I wish to treat you tonight.”

Good friend Adam Davidson help and painting together

I have started to paint inside the Factory. I love working in such a large space. I am able to work on several paintings at
once. I feel so free. The space is so
healing. I keep working on fixing the
space. I would love to show you photos of inside. But this will open more
harassment from MR. ASS. So I will not be posting the progress of my building
dreams of the Art Factory. Just know
that I am pushing forward. I have been
working for 6 months full time fixing the space. And I have budgeted to keep
working for another 6 – 12 months to keep fixing the factory.

Good friend Patrick S Greene and I painting inside Art Factory

I have many painting for sale. If you wish to contact me to purchase art
work… NOW is a good time to buy my art.
NOW is when I am a seed. Soon I will be a flower. You buying my art
today will help me build a dream. Buy a wall, lights, paint. My prices are flexible. Reasonable offers will be entertained. And I will
be most open to making you happy. Once
the Art Factory is open… I will be on the other side of this mountain. My
prices will be more. My vision is to
keep working on the renovating the Art Factory. I will be painting this new
series of paintings. I am starting to feel
ready to approach art galleries in other major cities. I just have not had the energy to juggle this
endeavor. Now is a really good time to
buy something beautiful. I also accept
monthly payment plans.

Friday, March 25, 2016

A
few days ago I found myself stuck in a 45 minute traffic jam on the
Queen's Way. Only to see that an OPP (police car) had pulled over a
car in the center island (left lane). I was around 8:30 am on a
Thursday morning.

I
could not believe that a police officer could be so fucking stupid.
1000 + plus people must have been late for work. This is not the
first time I have seen such stupid acts by the police. Sadly this
kind of occurrence has happened more times than I would like to
share.

I
have a drug dealer who lives on my street. He has lost his nose and
his ears from doing too much drugs. I was told that some drugs he is
addicted to are extended by rat poison / d-wormer and a small
percentage of individuals have an allergic reaction. This explains
why my drug addict / drug dealer neighbor has no noise and ears. This
drug dealer is breaking into countless cars and doing endless illegal
acts to support his addiction. I have called the police a few times
relating issues connected to this individual. The police confess the
holes in the system. This drug dealer has hundreds of small crimes.
Nothing changes. And the cycle continues and repeats itself.

I
am an artist. I am a painter. I have lived and worked in Ottawa for
11 years. I have had the police stop and ask me questions over 90
times. In the last three months the police have stopped me 11 times.
I have been asked for my driver's license, date of birth, home
address. I am asked such questions as: What are you doing? Why are
you doing that here? Why are you not doing that at your home in your
basement?

Is
it not perfectly clear that I am an artist. My cloths are covered in
paint. I have tons of art materials. Brushes, Canvases. Really is it
not abundantly obvious what I am doing? I am not selling anything. I
refuse donations. I am there to paint. To embrace the location and
the beauty of the elements

Why
am I being stopped and questioned by the police so much? I believe
we as a community do not encourage and support creative people
enough. Imagine if we had artists dancing, singing, performing,
sharing, giving, communicating their gifts and talents. I think Our
City, Our Home, Our Community would be so much more beautiful.

Just
think about how amazing it would be to walk around the city... stop
and listen to live music. Look at artists working creating art.
Tourists and residents would be more likely to to enjoy Ottawa. It is
my view that City Hall nickles and dimes us too much. Too many rules.
Too many permits. It is too complicated. Things need re-structuring.

I
can not count how many art galleries have closed in the past 5 – 7
years, but it is over 20 art galleries. Why are things structured the
way they are? Who cares if the guy singing on the street corner has
a permit or not? When I go to the Chip Wagon... do I really think
that the owner is paying taxes on half of the money he pockets?

I
would love to see too many artists on the streets... that is a
problem I welcome.

This painting I worked on for three
weeks. And I dance and enjoyed the building up the layers of paint.
Great satisfaction and joy.

In the final stages of working on this
painting I feel like an egg. I feel like an egg being dropped from
an airplane. Sky diving or suicide. I am completely alive. My heart
is beating so passionately. I can feel the red blood pumping like a
volcano. But it is more like drinking a fine wine. The wine swims
and washes the palette of my mouth. I eat a perfectly grilled steak
off the barbeque that had been marinated in Montreal steak spice.
Roasted vegetables with pink Himalaya sea salt and ground pepper and
extra virgin olive oil. The wine just wash everything down.
Everything is blended and mixed. I savor the moment. I am not in a
rush everything slows down, pay attention. I actively participate in
this conversation with my canvas. I feel perfectly content. My heart
grows. My blood warms.

I walk out off the plane. I fall into
the sky. My soul is open to everything. Thousands of butterflies are
released. I am naked. I am completely vulnerable. All my senses are
sensitive. My nose smells the perfume air like a lover that has
blanketed herself over me. I am distilled, cocooned, nested in this
perfect intimate moment.

I keep falling and falling. I am that
fragile egg that is falling. I hold nothing back. My heart is open. I
give and give. I touch the canvas with great tenderness and abundant
generosity. I approach this precious moment like I am holding my
daughter's hand as we walk in a park. We stop to pick flowers. We
sit in the long golden grass. I thread some wild daisies into chains
and place them in her hair. Each petal is so delicate. She is my
jewel.

All the crocuses, tulips, daffodil
bulbs bloom inside and break through my skin like spring. I get goose
bumps, or perhaps frostbite... as it sometimes is very cold. Blue
blood. I feel everything. I cut myself open. The zipper of soul is
undressed and my skin is left on the ground like a snake skin. I keep
bleeding and I keep believing.

work table and palette

I empty over 50 large tubes of paint in
under two hours. It is a massive party. I have all the voices singing
inside my head. It is a house party where all my friends celebrate
creativity and we all drink, dance and share love. There are no
rules, only pure freedom.

I keep falling... the egg is falling
and falling. This moment continues.. and I hold this bliss.

Then I have reached the submit of the
mountain. I have reached the top of K2 in my creative mind. And then
suddenly the egg hits the ground. And everything inside me has
exploded on the blank canvas.

Painting along the Ottawa River in Aylmer.

oil on canvas. 30 x 72 inches. Nov - Dec 2015

Price: $4000

Then there is second moment that I would wish to share with you. I worked on the painting over over a week. I will talk about the last day of working on the painting.

I am painting along the Ottawa River in
Aylmer. It is extremely windy. This time I have both winter boots
feet on the ground. I am not in a plane. But it is winter and the
winter wind is strong and cold. I feel like a little boy that is
trying to fly a kite. The ghost of my father is beside me. My mother
is holding me despite living on the other side of the country. Just
because they are not next to me does not mean that they are not with
me. I am alone. I do my best to embrace the freedom of myself.
Sometimes it is not easy. And I say to myself. Being alone is being
in good company. But a painting is not a lover. It is not a friend.
It does not hold you. It does not kiss you. You do not snuggle a
painting.

Working on a painting... winter winter winter day... lol

So I am that little boy trying to fly
his kite on a very windy day. But as I become more centered. More
creative. As I become the painter that is falling into the rainbow of
pigments in his canvas. I leave my body. I forget that it is cold. I
am a soul. I am energy. I am the wind. I am the snow blowing in the
wind. There is an invisible energy that flows in the current of my
soul. I am that snow flake that melts on my face. I am transforming.
I am.... I am alive in that moment.

taking break to make a snow angel - :)

I am that kite that is blowing
around. But the wind is so strong. The kite speeds up, spins around
around and around. But the wind is wild and out of control. So the
kite nose dives to the ground. My palette blows 20 plus feet across
the field. My canvas blows off the table - throws itself. I am lucky
that the canvas does not break. My bones are stronger. I eat nails
for breakfast. I am Rocky. I am do not accept failure. I embrace
the pleasure and the pain equally. It is intensely cold outside.
For a second my fingers are really cold. They feel like I hit them
with a hammer. My fingers are screaming. And I am unplugged from the
electricity, as I have to go get my canvas that blew, flew, and
landed on the snow ground. Blue blood. Red blood. I am that kite. I
get my palette and brushes. I have to smile. I smile and embrace the
crazy beautiful moment. I am not complaining. I am sharing. I love
the intensity of everything.

My palette and canvas blown away

So I continue to be that boy trying to
learn to fly his kite. It is a dream. A crazy dream. The wind gets
more turbulent. I am doing my best to satisfy my soul. The painting
blows crazy... it will not stay still. So I feel like I am play
fighting with a lover. I pin her down in the bed of my mind. Try to
kiss her. She is resisting. So I need to use gentle strength. She is
trying to tickle me. And I do not wish to goof around. I want to
make tender passionate love. But mother nature is wanting to play
fight. I refer to the canvas as a woman... (but really this is
asexual reproduction... lol). No judgment please. Just a metaphor.
:)

I put the painting on the ground... less likely to blow away.

Well I massage the canvas. I caress
every inch of the surface. I am a baker making bread. A carpenter. I
am a make up artist putting mascara on her beautiful eye lashes. I
am a proud father that is changing my daughter's diaper. I am the
gardener who is taking time to pull out the weeds. I am the clown
trying to make you laugh and add happiness to your day. I also feel
like a fool... for every moment is lost in time and these paintings
are not alive. Empty tubes of paint. Blank canvases. And these
paintings are not water, they are not sunshine that makes flowers
grow. Everything is Art. Art is not everything. But if sure is a
dream to make art.